I signed up for this online writer’s class. It’s nothing too major, but I did have to write an interesting item today which really got me thinking.
One of the questions on the assessment for the module I am on says to write a 500 word story about what you would do if you found out you were going to die in 7 days.
NO! I am not dying. But it was interesting to see what came out of me when I was working on this.
Here’s the mini-story I wrote:
My Last Seven Days
A week from today I’ll finally find out what happens after I die. I have no chance of recovery, and the universe has told me that at 8pm on Thursday evening, my time on this earth will come to an end. With only a week left, what will I do to pass the time?
I’d have little in the way of fear in how I would talk to or say things to people who have come across my path over the years. Instead of holding back whatever I felt because of typical social norms, I’d let it all out. With almost no time left, I’d be a bit relieved that I can just speak my mind without fear of backlash.
I’d find myself wanting to visit and talk to as many people that I have called friends throughout my life. Let them know how they changed my life for the better. Whether it was a close friend, an old girlfriend, or even an ex-wife, I’d just give them a hug and say thank you and for them to have a good life.
At the age of 46, I’d call my friend Ken and tell him I’m ready have my very first drink. Having never had any alcoholic drinks in my life, I might as well have my first as I approach the last days of my life.
I would find a way to seek out my half-sister from the other side of the country for whom I have never met. I’d find a way to either see her in person or at least over video chat. I’d be able to pass away knowing that I’d finally connected with her beyond just a Facebook Friend Request.
At 5pm on Thursday, I’d take my wife and kids out for dinner. We’d go to our favorite restaurant in town and enjoy the food, company, and entertainment. We would laugh at the show and for a few moments forget what is about to transpire.
We’d then make our way down to Alexander Park where I met my wife for the first time all the way back in 1989. Quarantine or not, the kids would play on the playground while the wife and I sit on the swings where we met. We would reminisce about our travels, our adventures, our family, and all the great things we have experienced together.
I’d call the kids over to the swings and push them as hard as I could. I’d tell them to do their “wipe-out” for me one last time and I’d watch them fly out of their swing seat at the top of the curve and land like they’ve been doing it for years.
I would tell my kids that I love them, and that they were the greatest gift the universe ever gave to me. And although I was going, wherever I ended up, I would always be there with them when they needed me.
I’d give my wife her last kiss and tell her that she saved me. She helped me re-find the real me and nurtured and supported him all this time.
My watch would beep at 7:59:30pm. Slowly backing away from the swing set, I’d raise my hand and give a gentle wave goodbye. As the clock strikes 8:00pm, all of who I once was fades into the background and all that is left is the memory amongst those whose lives I touched.
